


Never Twice

by Khaelis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Non-Graphic Smut, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 15:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13860828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaelis/pseuds/Khaelis
Summary: Rose and the metacrisis Doctor have to stop at an inn, they can't keep driving through a storm with an exhausted Rose behind the wheel.Maybe they can seize the opportunity to make things right again.[Prompt Fic | TenToo x Rose | First Time | Storm & Abandoned Place]





	Never Twice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> New one shot - and my actual first try at writing the metacrisis Doctor, I'm not sure I got him quite right so I'm counting on TenToo lovers to let me know what to improve!  
> It is much more angsty than what I had in mind when I found the prompt, but there's still a fluffy happy ending (and super vanilla smut because graphic didn't suit the atmosphere of the story IMO).
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, here goes!  
> I hope you'll like it, please let me know what you think!

* * *

 

“I think we should stop.”

  


No answer came. He sighed deeply and nestled his chin deeper into the crook of his palm, staring through the window at the trees reeling behind the frame. The smooth glass was covered with a thick layer of condensation on the inside, streams of water on the outside, but even a blurry landscape of forest and fields was better than to look at her. He could feel her shrug without looking, imagine with acute precision the frown on her face and the dark look she probably threw at him.

 

The storm that had been brewing for the better part of the afternoon was now hitting the region they were trying to get away from, powerful gusts of wind, menacing sky, pouring rain, streaks of lightning glowing behind the heavy clouds. He knew it wasn’t wise to keep driving under such awful conditions, especially since the night had fallen abruptly half an hour back, even more especially since she was exhausted and had trouble focusing on the road ahead for more than a few seconds at a time. If they hadn’t nastily argued from the moment they had left the facility, maybe he could have knocked some sense into her. If he hadn’t been stupid enough to point out just how flirty that agent had been and how miffed he had been when she had done nothing more than giggle and blush, maybe he could have convinced her they ought to stop before she got the both of them killed.

 

Jealousy, he had found out, was a feeling inherent to human nature that he had big trouble dealing with now that he was part-human. The anger and the hurt had washed over him, and before he’d known it he was punching the nose of that blond bloke and possessively wrapping an arm around her waist. Thus, the argument. The problem came from the both of them and their lack of communication. Ever since they had kissed on that bloody beach and settled down in the parallel universe, they had barely talked. At first, he had thought it better to give her some time, give her some space, because he knew it mustn't have been easy to leave her Doctor behind, _again_ , and end up with a carbon copy she’d never consider as the _real_ one. She never talked about it, never referred to him as anything else but _you_ and _he_ , as if she refused to say his name, lest it’d make it all worse. And then, after a few days, a few weeks, they had settled in an awkward routine of shallow greetings and half-hearted kisses on the cheek, their only solace the mountain of work that fell on their desks at Torchwood every morning.

 

He didn’t even think they were together. They shared a flat, and that was about it - they hadn’t dared to refuse her father’s generous offer, but they both knew that had been a mistake. It made everything so much more complicated, and it killed him, day after day, to feel the love he’d always felt for her dwindle down. He was terrified that, soon, his love would die and he’d die along with it.

  


“Do you want me to drive?”

  


A snort. Okay, he got that. That had been a stupid offer - if the huge dent in the rear bumper and half the licence plate missing were any clues, he couldn’t actually drive. He had just lost an opportunity to keep his mouth shut. _Again_.

 

But then, he heard the regular clicking of a blinker, spotted a sign along the road that pointed towards an inn, and the tyres screeched on the wet asphalt of a path that ran through the trees, deep into the forest. He blew a discreet puff of relief and relaxed a little. Five minutes later, she parked the car in front of something he’d have trouble defining as anything else than a rotten cabin about to collapse. A big red sign was plastered on the door, _under renovation_ , and he stared at it in disbelief as she groaned in annoyance and let her head fall onto the wheel with a dull thump.

  


“I’ll go check it out,” he sighed, unbuckling his safety belt and grabbed the flashlight from the glove compartment.

  


He quickly ran to one of the windows quivering under the relentless wind, swept his light into the large room for a few seconds, and went back to the car.

  


“Seems decent enough,” he almost shouted to cover the noise of the storm. “We could spend the night there. It’s either that or we sleep in the car. I’m not letting you drive any longer, you need to rest.”

“‘Kay, just let me grab my stuff in the trunk,” she accepted, pulling her hood over her head and turning the ignition off.

“I’ll get it, just go inside,” he told her, already going to back of the car to fetch their suitcase and the large plaid she always kept there in case of emergency.

  


His chucks splashed into the puddles of dirty water as he hurried towards the door, the few seconds he spent under the rain enough to soak his clothes and drench his hair, his carefully modelled spikes falling over his forehead in defeat. He joined her into what must have been a reception hall once, a large wooden counter the only element that pointed to the building’s former activity.

  


“I’ve seen a couch and a fireplace,” he said, pointing his chin towards the room on the left. “If we’re lucky, I’ll find dry wood somewhere to make a fire, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Thanks,” she whispered - she tried hard not to let her teeth chatter, she’d hate from him to see she was freezing already.

  


He simply shrugged and walked into what was left of a living-room, relieved to see it seemed to be resisting the powerful storm - at least, they’d be protected from the wind and the rain, which wouldn’t have been the case if they’d crashed into a ditch. He dropped the suitcase on an old-fashioned carpet than had seen better days and was covered in wood shavings and dust. The large couch was covered with a thick plastic sheet he was quick to take off and roll into a ball he threw away in a corner.

  


“You should change into dry clothes,” he advised her, handing her the flashlight so she wouldn’t stay in the dark - despite being only half-Time Lord, he still had an eyesight that was way superior to humans and he had far less trouble seeing in heavy obscurity. “I think I can use these to make a fire for the night.”

  


He crouched down and started to gather the shavings, stacking them into the improvised pouch he made with the hem of his shirt, along with a few pieces of crumpled newspapers that were outdated by a few years - if they needed any more proof that this inn was abandoned for good, there it was. His breath hitched in his throat when he heard her zip the suitcase open, the sound of her metallic belt buckle being loosened, the rumple of clothes as she stepped out of her jeans and took off her grey jumper. He didn’t want to look and do her the offence of watching without her consent, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes flew to her before he could stop them, and his mouth half-parted in awe at the perfectly sculpted body, the taut muscles under the smooth pale skin, the swell of her heaving breasts, the swell of her round bum, the curve of the small of her back, the slender nape of her neck. He realized this was the first time he was seeing her in such a state of undress, and he felt both guilty to watch behind her back and ignore how wrong this was, and sad that he actually had to steal that picture of her, that he’d probably never get to see her beauty in broad daylight, or enjoy it without that lingering disgust tinging his tongue - a disgust he most definitely felt for his own cowardice and all those base and immoral thoughts currently flooding his stupid human brain.

 

He quickly tore his eyes away from her and went to the fireplace to hide the blush that had swallowed his cheeks and throw his gatherings on the small heap of cold ashes. He reached for his sonic screwdriver in his trousers - the only thing he’d been able to recreate from scratch, though it counted much less functions that the previous one, given that some components hadn’t been invented yet, or simply didn’t exist in this sodden universe. Still, it was enough to spark a chunk of wood ablaze, and within a short minute a bright fire was roaring in the fireplace, projecting its dark shadows over the walls, its heat slowly spreading around the room. Satisfied by his handiwork, he finally allowed himself to change into dry clothes as well, his soaked shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin and  his  too tight trousers discarded by the fire along with his shoes so they’d dry overnight.

 

He almost expected her to already be fast asleep on the couch, but when he turned on his heels he saw she was curled up in a corner and unsuccessfully trying to wipe her tears before he could see them. His frail human heart free-fell in his chest and he swallowed past the lump of worry that had settled in his throat. They both might have had their resentment and anger, they might not share anything anymore, they might not be the perfect couple everyone thought they were - if they were a couple at all, that was a fact he couldn’t even believe himself any longer. But her tears would always be something that wrenched his heart and struck all the wrong chords in his chest.

  


“Rose?” he asked softly, padding towards her to sit quietly by her side.

  


Oh, he doubted she’d want to share, but at least she wouldn’t blame him for not trying. He watched in silence as she rubbed her nose with the back of her sleeve and fiddled with a lose thread of her woollen sock.

  


“Can I ask you a question?” she sniffed, staring at the tiny hole in her sweatpants without really seeing it.

“You now you can ask me anything, Rose,” he shrugged, daring to clasp his fingers around her own in a gentle hold.

“Can you bring the Doctor back?”

  


That question, those few words shot daggers through his heart and he bit down on his cheek so hard the copper taste of blood flooded his tongue. He thought he’d already experienced the worst kind of pain when she had started to ignore him, but this was beyond anything he could have imagined. Pain usually came with sorrow, with guilt, with fears. But this was pure, raw, unadulterated hurt. He tried hard not to shove her away and dash out the room, steal her car and drive until he crashed against a lamppost or fell over a precipice. Instead, he drew her into a tight hug and released a shaky breath. It wasn’t like he didn’t know she missed the other him, and he would have gladly sent her back to him if he could - at least one of them would be happy.

  


“I can’t,” he apologized, brushing his fingers through her blond strands. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Why?” she asked - and he frowned in confusion, because surely she couldn’t have forgotten why it was impossible.

“Because we can’t cross the fabric between the universes,” he still answered. “Because even if it were possible, we wouldn’t have any way of doing it.”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

  


She freed herself from his hold, but instead of shifting away from him like he thought she would, she simply sat cross-legged on his side and splayed her hands over his chest. Her eyes were still full of tears, but what he deciphered in their depth made no sense.

  


“I know my Doctor is in there somewhere,” she whispered, brushing her knuckles up to his jaw before she cupped his cheek. “I don’t know why he’s hiding. I don’t know what I did to scare him away, but I want him back. Please, tell me what I can do for him to come back. Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me how I can fix this.”

“Rose, you did nothing wrong,” he breathed out, leaning into her touch against his most reasonable instincts. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you won’t talk to me,” she smiled, a sad, heartbreaking smile that made him wince. “You won’t touch me, you won’t kiss me. You won’t love me. Ever since we came back, you’ve been so… Distant. I never felt more abandoned than when you decided to sleep on the couch on our first night together. And then you just… Walked away.”

“I… I just wanted to give you time, Rose,” he said, lowering his eyes to hide the tears he felt pricking in their corners. “Time to forget about him, time to get used to me. I thought you needed it.”

“There’s no _him_. There’s you. There’s only ever been you. I wish I had made it clearer. But I also wish you trusted me enough to see that.”

  


He looked into her eyes, and for the first time in almost a year, he saw. He saw her pain when he’d only noticed the anger, he saw her guilt when he’d believed she was secretly enjoying playing with his feelings, her saw her longing for him when he’d been sure she only wanted the one man she could never get, he saw her love when he’d been certain she felt nothing more but hate for him. He couldn’t explain the reasons why he had always been blind to those feelings, why he had ignored them, ignored her and her needs. And then he realized she was right. He had walked away. He had abandoned her and abandoned who he was in the process. But he’d been wrong. She still wanted him. Still needed him, and he still needed her. Still loved her.

 

A streak of lightning reflected in the depth of her eyes and a low rumble made his heart vibrate in his chest. He still loved her.

  


“I trust you, Rose,” he whispered, the tears he finally let roll down on his cheeks speaking that truth better than words could. “Of course I trust you. I’ve been an idiot. I should have seen you needed me. I should have seen distancing myself was making it worse. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“I should have loved you more,” she murmured, brushing his tears away with her knuckles. “I should have tried harder. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Doctor.”

  


And it was when she used his name for the first time in almost a year that he realized everything would be fine. They hadn’t lost each other. Merely lost some time because of stupid doubts and irrational fears. Why they had waited so long to talk about them was beyond him, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else but the heat of her lips under his and the softness of her tongue against his mattered.

 

The kiss was nothing like their first. He still had this distant memory of her lips crashing against his, of their hands grabbing at clothes, of their arms trying to pull each other closer, as close as they could ever get. This was better. So much better. Each brush of their lips was like an heartfelt apology, each caress of their tongue a quiet reassurance that they were together again, each squeeze of their fingers a silent promise that they wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

 

They had never gotten the chance to acquaint themselves with that kind of touch. He slowly discovered just how smooth her skin was under his fingertips, how delicate her lips were, how warm her body was pressed against his. She slowly discovered just how soft his hair felt under her fingers, how gentle his nips and kisses were, how solid and comforting his body was pressed against her. He could have drowned in the sounds she made and she could have suffocated in his scent. The heat of the fire dancing over their body almost felt cold against their burning touches, and the simmering need in the pit of their loins steadily turned to boiling desire.

 

A loud thunder clap made the windows tremble just as they broke their passionate kiss, and he brought one of her hand to rest above his heart, the other still firmly splayed over his cheek.

  


“Rose,” he whispered, a strained voice the went with his bridled passion. “If we go further… Then please, allow me, now… I want them to be meaningful.”

“Them?” she asked, feeling his quick heartbeat hammering against his ribcage under her palm.

“Yes. I need to say them again.”

  


She shivered deep down to her bones when he pressed their foreheads together and stared at her, through her, his hot breath caressing her lips, his eyes two pits of raw devotion and affection.

  


“I love you,” he murmured, letting the words roll on the tip of his tongue like poetic lyrics he was thrilled to remember.

“I love you too, my Doctor,” she smiled before she pressed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You’re back.”

  


And those three, very simply word, made them whole again. The Doctor and Rose, just like they were supposed to be. Their lips met again in a searing kiss and their groans fused into a beautiful symphony. Strands of hair were tugged, nails scraped the skin of their necks, hands slipped under their clothes, teeth clacked against each other. The Doctor sowed little nips down the column of her throat and his lips latched on the pulse point of her neck, elated to know she’d wear his mark the morning later. He helped Rose out of her long-sleeved top and gently accompanied her body down on the couch, nudging her knees further apart so he could settle between them. He shed his own tee-shirt, and he growled between his clenched teeth when her nimble fingers tried to caress his chest everywhere at one, brushing against his coarse smattering of hair and teasing his nipples on their way. He had never been one to believe in vengeance, but the way she arched under him made it hard to resist the temptation. He slipped an arm under her back to bring her closer and bowed his head to suck on of her nipples into his mouth, tongue teasing its peak until it wall pulled taut.

 

This wasn’t exactly the romantic first time Rose could have expected from the Doctor, but at the same it was so _them_ , stuck in a decrepit inn to escape a raging storm, that she couldn’t bring herself to care. The fire shed its deep orange glow over his upper body, dark shadows outlining his lean curves and strong muscles, lighter ones drafting the goosebumps that had risen over his pale skin, underlying his hollowed cheeks and the dip under his pouty lip. He looked handsome, especially with that reflection of a flame etched in the depth of his eyes swallowed by black pupils. Especially with his flattened brown mane brushing against her oversensitized skin and his lips mapping the contours of her breasts. She hadn’t been touched with so much tenderness and so much care for so long, her desire became an urgent need, a crazed longing to draw him closer and made one with his. She wrapped her legs around his midsection, crossed her ankles in the small of his back, and moaned loudly when he willingly bent forward to press his hardness against her heated core.

  


“Please, Doctor,” she begged through a whimper, rocking her hips against him to try and relieve her aching arousal.

“Rose, I won’t…” the Doctor started, choking on a gasp when she managed to rub herself over his still clothed erection. “I won’t last.”

“Doctor, we have a whole life ahead of us to take it slow,” she pleaded, shoving her sweatpants down along with her knickers herself. “I need you. Give yourself to me.”

  


He grunted low in his throat and pushed his trousers down as far as they would go without breaking the contact of his lips on her skin, trailing kisses up to her jaw until their mouths met again. Their clothes didn’t allow for broad movements or even a comfortable position, but he had enough freedom to fully sheath himself in her warm, welcoming heat. They groaned in unison at the sudden shared intimacy, both completely surrounded by the other, gulping down short intakes of their mingled breath. They moved together in a synchronous dance that almost felt like a waltz they had practiced over and over again, their hips coming together in a wild staccato rhythm that couldn’t quite follow the rapid pants flowing out of their mouths when they stopped kissing for long enough. Her pent up passion snapped just before his, her wild flutters the last thing he needed to follow in her wake with a shout of her name he muffled in the crook of her neck.

 

Neither of them heard the howl of the wind shaking the cabin or the low rumble of the dying thunder, neither of them saw the last streak of lightning that flowed the room, neither of them felt the freezing breeze that replaced the heat of the now perished fire. Their breaths were comforting enough, their eyes were too enthralled by what they saw in their depths, the warmth of their still joined bodies kept the cold away. Their love was enough.

 

When they would get back to their car the morning later, a bright ray of sunlight would be piercing through the fluffy clouds that had chased the dark smog of the night, a flock a birds merrily chirping in the naked trees. The Doctor would offer to drive again, and instead of a snort, Rose would just shake her head with a chuckle. Rose wouldn’t keep her hand firmly locked around her gear shift knob and rub his thigh at any given chance. He wouldn’t look through the window, just stare into the rearview mirror to catch her eyes every few seconds, beaming at her every time he did. They didn’t know why it had taken so long to talk about it, but they knew the same mistake would never be made again.

 

* * *

 


End file.
